


Playing the part (remix)

by nanasekei



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 00:16:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: “We have five days of this ahead of us, Cap. Call me crazy, but I think if we don’t spend the entire time fighting over every little thing, we might have a chance of actually pulling this off.”-Tony tells a joke, that turns into a lie, that turns into him having to pretend to Steve Rogers' husband for five days. Just his luck.





	Playing the part (remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [schneemann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schneemann/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Playing the part](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523350) by [nanasekei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei). 

> This is an expanded version of the idea I played with in this ficlet, "Playing the part". You don't have to read one to understand the other, though.
> 
> This is also set somewhere post-Civil War, but is not IW or Endgame compliant. There is no Accords discussion, but there is some talk about Siberia, just so you know.
> 
> For schneemann. Thank you so much for your patience! And thanks to Ferret as well, for betaing it and helping when I needed.

“This is bad,” Steve said, as soon as they stepped inside the bedroom.

_ No shit_, _ Sherlock. _

Tony walked towards the middle of the suite. A big couch sat at the center, in front of an empty wall where holograms of “_any show in the universe, according to the delegation’s preferences_” could be shown.

The bathroom’s door was closed, but Tony knew it was almost as big as the room, the bathtub making his jacuzzi seem like a bucket. And, of course, there was the king-sized bed, looming behind Steve and Tony like a threat and a mockery at the same time.

“What happened?” Tony asked, dropping himself on the couch. The room’s luxury bothered him, because he could tell it was more of a passive aggressive move than sheer generosity. More of a _ look how rich we are _ than a _ glad you’re here_.

Steve made a face. “The High Priestess said… some things last night, when you went to the bathroom.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, apprehension crawling up in his chest. Of course, nothing about their situation was _ good_, but he had thought they were doing fairly well, until then.

Truth be told, he was too busy focusing on not going insane to think about the strength of their performance. He had been distracted by his feelings, not even considering that getting caught could legitimately put them in danger, but now the possibility was too real to ignore. “She’s on to us? And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell me that?”

“She isn’t on to us. She…” Steve’s cheeks went a little pink at the memory. “She seems to think we’re distant, and that we didn’t fully bounce back from our, uh, divorce. She said that I looked… tense. And then she, uh, asked if I didn’t want to… ‘blow off a little steam’.”

Tony’s tension immediately vanished, replaced by sheer incredulity. “She _ propositioned _you? While I was in the bathroom?” Indignation curled up inside him, because what the fuck? Who comes onto someone’s husband like that?

_ Steve is not your husband, _a reasonable voice that sounded suspiciously like Rhodey whispered in his head. Which of course, was true. Tony had no actual claim to Steve, not now and not ever. Whoever he slept with was none of his business.

Still. The nerve.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that?”

Steve clenched his jaw. “I didn’t think it would go any further.”

“Well, clearly it has, since she’s giving herself one more chance to slip her room number into your pocket.” Technically, the palace’s rooms didn’t have numbers, but Tony didn’t have any time to care about that. He was way too busy trying to pry the mental image of Steve hooking up with the Golden Lady out of his head. “Did you talk about this with anyone?”

“I called Quill,” Steve said, his expression a good indicator of how that conversation went. “He said ‘oh yeah, she has a thing for blonds.’”

“Wow. That guy never tires of being useful, does he?” Tony crossed his arms and turned towards Steve, too winded to be able to read his expression. He felt pissed off at the world – at the Sovereign, at Quill, at Leader Homewrecker, at Steve, and even at himself for taking that damn bathroom break. He should never have let Steve’s side. Now… “So, what do you want to do?”

Steve paused for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Great,” Tony said, running a hand over his face. “Just great.”

* * *

The worst part was: Tony had been legitimately trying to be nice.

See, the thing about saving the universe is that it’s a pretty awesome endeavor while it’s happening – fighting for humanity, putting every sore feeling behind for the greater good and all of that crap. When it’s done, though, all you’re left with is a supersoldier who smashed your heart in a million pieces, and it’s just awkward.

So Tony was just trying to relieve the tension. Steve would disagree, because of course he would, but at the end of the day, it was the truth. And—look, Steve might never get it, might think it’s the most annoying thing in the world, but Tony just had to handle things with quips, that was just how he was wired. Joke after joke after joke followed by the occasional genuinely mean snide comment, that was just how he survived life’s struggles. And Steve Rogers back on his team, talking to him, looking at him – that was maybe one of the greatest struggles Tony ever faced, Mad Titan included.

So he quipped, and he made jokes, and, yeah, maybe that wasn’t the most mature approach to take. But it was all Tony had, so, in moments like those – with Steve standing right next to him, his shoulder nearly bumping Tony’s, as he frowned and listened to the Guardians’ mission report, Tony’s gaze inevitably drawn to the way his jaw clenched, to the little frown between his eyebrows – he simply had to joke. Any other alternative wouldn’t be socially acceptable, or at least not on any planet Tony knew.

“Sorry,” he had to say, then, when the tension between him and Steve got too thick to ignore, even for someone on the outside. “We kind of just bounced bad from a really messy divorce.”

Steve’s frown had deepened, of course it had, but the alien on the screen – and Tony kept forgetting his name and he knew if he kept mentally calling him “Mr. Clean”, the nickname would stick and he’d never know what was he actually called – seemed taken aback.

“That sounds incredibly difficult,” he replied in a solemn voice, and Tony laughed, because, fuck yeah, someone with a sense of humor. Those were apparently hard to find anywhere in the universe, it seemed.

And then Mr. Clean turned out to be named Drax, and he turned out to understand everything in the most literal way possible, and, well, before Tony knew it, as far as the galaxy was concerned, he and Steve were married. Twice over.

And then there was the call for a diplomatic conference with the representatives of a bunch of planets, and Earth had to show up, and so did the Avengers. And the people organizing it were the Sovereign, who, according to Quill, didn’t take kindly to being lied to. They were the most stuck up people in the galaxy, and took pride in feeling better than other races, so they were, as Quill put it, easily offended. _ The cost of transgression is death_, Rocket had said, nonchalant, after sharing the story of the one time their people deployed an entire fleet because of stolen batteries.

Basically, they had chosen the _ worst _race in the galaxy to lie to, even if they didn’t even mean to tell a lie in the first place. Just Tony’s luck.

So there he was, walking outside of an alien spaceship, to meet a new race of beings, find new technology, and get to know an entire new planet and culture – all while having to be Steve Rogers’ pretend husband.

Again: he was trying to be nice. Elphie was right, no good deed went unpunished.

“Stop moving your arm so much,” he whispered to Steve, when they took the first steps off of the landing pad, trying to get used to walking in a cohesive rhythm. And—okay, fine, maybe he was all too aware of how sweaty his palm was against Steve’s warm, big hand and he really, really wanted Steve to not notice it—but, also, he was a little bit annoyed. Steve looked like he was walking to the guillotine, his gaze firmly forward, jaw set in a tense, serious line. Not only was he failing to pretend he was in love with Tony, he was failing to pretend he could even tolerate him. So, yeah, Tony was annoyed, and he had to poke him a little.

“You’re the one moving,” Steve replied, because of course he did, and Tony snorted.

“Look.” He stopped walking, turning towards Steve and leaning closer to whisper. “We have five days of this ahead of us, Cap. Call me crazy, but I think if we don’t spend the entire time fighting over every little thing, we might have a chance of actually pulling this off.”

Steve pressed his lips together, his mouth a thin line.

“Fine,” he said.

They went back to walking. Steve’s hand was still unbearably warm, but his arm didn’t move as much.

Tony gave him a lopsided smile – half-encouragement, half playing the “sweet couple in love” part. Steve hesitated for a moment, but he smiled back.

Warmth bloomed in Tony’s chest. Maybe they were going to be able to pull this thing off, after all.

* * *

They were so not gonna be able to pull this thing off.

Tony ran his hand down his face, coming over his mouth. Steve just stood there, and Tony had the irrational urge to shake him. Not only were they lying to one of the most ruthless species in the galaxy, but their leader had seen enough cracks on their fake romance to attempt to insert herself in the middle of it. What a mess.

And to think Tony had naively believed they were doing well. As the first two days passed, they established a kind of routine: play the part while anyone else was around, try not to murder each other when they were supposed to be giving each other heart eyes, go back to the bedroom and ignore each other’s existence for about eight hours until they had to go out and face the aliens again.

The king-sized bed had caused a moment of silence as soon as they both took notice of it, Tony feeling his face go hot in a way that didn’t fit the planet’s icy temperature. Fortunately, though, the couch was there to save the day.

(Steve had, of course, been the universe’s kindest asshole, insisting Tony took the bed every night. Tony attempted to argue, but Steve didn’t bulge, so he ended up giving in and sleeping on the bed. It was very comfortable, but he still had a hard time falling asleep, mind wandering, unable to not try to imagine how it would be like to have Steve by his side.)

So, yes Tony felt like he was driving himself a little insane with the task of touching Steve while making it seem that he wanted him without, you know, actually showing he did want him. And he and Steve were both mutually ignoring that one time where they beat the shit out of each other and spent two years without speaking, which was a little awkward, to say the least.

Fortunately, nobody asked for details about the alleged divorce, so at least Tony and Steve weren’t forced to relive it anytime they were doing small talk with someone with two heads. It would be a lie, though, to say being around Steve all the time didn’t make Tony think about it.

He didn’t tell Steve that, of course. The team was back together, the Accords were down, and the rogues and James Barnes had all been pardoned in the eyes of the law. There really was no reason to drag it out any further, Tony thought.

(Yes, the memory of the bunker still made his chest hurt, but Steve didn’t need to know that.)

They had enough to worry about as it was, or at least Tony had. He had to be in love with Steve while simultaneously _ not _ being in love with Steve and _ also _being really, really fucking hopelessly in love with Steve. To be honest, he was starting to feel a little lost under those different layers of lies.

But at least it seemed like the Sovereign were buying their farce. They even invited them to a special, private dinner the next day, after the daily meetings were over. Tony thought it was a good sign, even if it meant they’d have to fake for a little longer than usual.

Of course, he was completely wrong. The dinner would just be another opportunity for them to fail at seeming like a happy couple, which could have disastrous consequences. It was hard to see all those gold, holier-than-thou pricks as a threat, but Tony had taken a look at their battle ships when they were touring the place, and it was good stuff. Underestimating them would be a mistake.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice brought him back to the present. “Are you even listening?”

“Okay,” Tony said, even though it was not okay at all. He was worried, and he was nervous, and he was _ still _imagining Steve hooking up with Ayesha, which didn’t help at all. “Okay. Maybe we should play along with her? Like, lean into this angle of a just-for-appearances couple? I suppose it doesn’t really count as lying if they think we’re just lying to ourselves.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, it’s no big deal. I could just go out for a walk after dinner. Pretend I need some time alone or something like that.”

Steve just stared at him as if nothing Tony was saying made sense, and his eyes looked very blue and bright and Tony had to look away, snorting.

“Cap, I’m trying to help you out. Maybe this is not the best idea, considering how the other times I did this went, but—” Tony cut himself off, a little disturbed at the bitterness in his voice. “Anyway, what I mean is, if you have a secret fantasy about hooking up with one of the people who dress up as statues in Times Square, this is the moment.”

“_Tony_,” Steve said. “Of course I don’t want to do this. I’m—I’m _ supposed to be _your husband.”

Tony’s annoyance deflated a little at the look on Steve’s face. “Well, okay, then.” Tony fought to not let that annoyance be replaced by other troublesome feelings, like the warmth that was prickling up his neck at the words _ your husband_. “What did you say to her?”

Steve flushed. He looked away, then cleared his throat. “What I was supposed to,” he said, like that answered everything.

Well, okay. “Clearly we haven’t done a good enough job selling that, though, if she thinks you’re gonna cheat on me that easily.”

“True,” Steve said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking very, very tired. Tony wondered if this whole thing was at least one tenth as hard for Steve as it was for him, but he highly doubted it. “We’re lucky she just assumed we were going through a crisis.”

“Right,” Tony agreed. All things considered, they really _ were _lucky. That whole farce was insane, and it could go south in a heartbeat. All the time, Tony had been distracted by small, meaningless things – the feel and warmth of Steve’s hand in his, the faint scent he could catch from Steve’s shampoo when he leaned closer – when he really should have been seeing this for what it was: a very, very risky mission. The Sovereign were just as dangerous as they were ridiculous, and there he had been, losing sleep just by listening to Steve’s breath in their suite after the lights went off. Geez, what was his problem?

(Steve. Steve was his problem, as always. One of the biggest curses of being a genius was that Tony couldn’t stop himself from knowing that.)

Steve stayed quiet for a moment, looking down, before his head snapped towards Tony again, as if he was about to shout out battle instructions. “We need to do better.”

Tony nodded as a reflex (it was hard to not nod when Steve pulled that commanding voice, especially because it sent a very strange shiver down Tony’s spine) before taking in Steve’s words. “What?”

“We need to do better,” Steve repeated as if Tony was questioning him on their attack formation. “Be more convincing.”

“So, what—do you want me to grab your ass in the entry hall or something?”

To Tony’s satisfaction, a flush bloomed on Steve’s cheeks in response, even as his frown deepened. “This is serious, Tony.”

“I am being serious. Nothing says ‘happy couple’ more than being inappropriate in public. Besides, hey, better me than her, right?” He raised one eyebrow, not willing to let Steve reply. “Maybe we should try nicknames. You’ll be ‘sugar plum’, and I’ll be—”

“_Tony_,” Steve interrupted. His jaw clenched as he gave Tony that expression he always wore when talking to him – tired as hell, but not so tired that he couldn’t also be disappointed. “Can’t you make anything easy for once?”

“I think we should be aiming to get things harder, if you know what I mean,” Tony’s mouth spoke of its own volition, because he couldn’t help it. Steve’s disappointment was always both infuriating and comforting somehow, as if things were where they were supposed to be when Steve was mad at him.

Steve’s brows furrowed and his jaw clenched and his cheeks grew redder. He looked furious and beautiful, and Tony kind of liked that combo. It made him look unreachable, which was good, because he was.

“Would it kill you to take this seriously?” He bristled, his voice betraying just a tinge of controlled anger.

“No, Cap. As you know, it’s not very easy to kill me,” Tony said, and to be honest, he didn’t—he didn’t even know what made him say it, really. Maybe it was because he was pissed at the ridiculous situation they were in. Maybe it was because he was tired of dancing around that One Funny Time where they beat the shit out of each other.

Maybe it was because Steve looked beautiful, and angry, and close, and really, really beautiful, and Tony needed him to look a little _ angrier_. A little safer.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t work.

Instead Steve’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed, and his jaw clenched again, and he looked like Tony had just tried to kill _ him, _ a little. He looked hurt.

“I.” He took a breath, a little shaken, and Tony could see his hands on his sides clenching. “You really think I…”

He didn’t even look offended, Tony thought, a little distantly. Just. Hurt in the rawest, simplest way someone could be.

(Tony didn’t think that, not really. He had, at one point, certainly—and at the moment, in the bunker, with Steve on top of him, it had seemed clear. Obvious, even.

But then Steve didn’t kill him, jamming the shield into the reactor instead, and, see, the thing was—sometimes, at night, when he couldn’t sleep thinking of Steve in a distant country, Steve on the run, Steve lying to him, Tony almost wished he had.

It just—would have made it easier.

Then again, clearly, neither of them had a knack for making things easier, Tony supposed.)

Steve turned his back to him. Tony’s chest tightened. No matter how many times this happened, he would never get used to it.

“I’ll request another bedroom,” Steve said, voice impossible to read. Regret flooded Tony in a hot wave, his face heating.

“Don’t be stupid,” he countered. His hand climbed to his chest involuntarily, where he could feel his heart pounding heavily. “They'll figure us out. You can’t—”

“If you don’t feel safe, I shouldn’t be here,” Steve interrupted, his voice surprisingly firm. “I’ll make up some excuse.”

“For fuck’s sake, of course I feel _ safe_,” Tony argued. Steve shook his head, moving towards the door, and, in an impulse, Tony reached for his shoulder, grasping it. “Look, just—stay, okay? It’s, it’s fine.”

Steve froze, his back going rigid under Tony’s touch. He stayed quiet for a moment that seemed to take an entire eternity to pass, then said, almost in a whisper: “Okay.”

His voice sounded so small. Tony’s stomach twisted, guilt curling in his belly. What the hell was wrong with him? He should have never brought this up at all. It wasn’t the time or the place, and it had been _ two years_, what was even the _ point _ of mentioning it at all, couldn’t he just let that shit _ go_…

He opened his mouth – not knowing what he’d say, just knowing he wanted to say _ something_, anything – but, before any words came out, Steve walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Tony didn’t sleep. Of course he didn’t. The clock marked three a.m., and Tony was too busy staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles and pretending he wasn’t also counting Steve’s breaths.

He was going to be one hell of a sight at dinner the next night. With some luck, maybe the other guests would think he and Steve had spent the night awake in the way a happily married couple would, and not as they were right now, with Steve on the couch and Tony feeling like shit on the bed.

He didn’t even know why he had said that. He wasn’t even _ angry _ at Steve anymore (except when he was, but those moments were getting rarer as time went by, almost worryingly so). It had just… slipped, somehow, and shit – maybe there, in the darkness of the room, Tony could admit that it had slipped because he _ wanted _ it to slip, he _ wanted _to address all the shit that happened between them in some way, and he wanted to see Steve’s reaction, wanted to see what he would say.

But he hadn’t expected the look on Steve’s face. He could have expected a lot – including an angry reply that turned into a screaming match, and hell, maybe that was his _ hope _ – but not that.

And now, there Tony was, counting Steve’s breaths in the dark, and maybe he had fallen asleep already, because they were beginning to sound—strange.

Uneven.

_ No _ , Tony thought, his stomach twisting at the sound of what couldn’t be – shit, it _ had to,_ but no, it couldn’t be—a sob.

Unfortunately, though, Tony could still trust his senses. And he knew a sob when he heard one. A muffled, soft, small sob, but a sob nonetheless.

Tony stood up. Like an idiot, he just stood up and stayed there, next to the bed in the dark, turned towards the vaguely square-shaped shadow of the back of the couch. He couldn’t see Steve – not even his shadow, his broad and large shadow that Tony had the aching feeling would be all curled up on itself now – but he could hear him.

He could hear him crying.

Tony shifted. He opened and closed his hands nervously, at a complete loss for what to do. Steve wasn’t—He _ couldn’t be _—

Another sob.

Tony started walking towards the couch. He had no idea what the hell he was going to do, he just knew he needed Steve to _ stop doing that_.

He took frantic steps, and it was a miracle he didn’t knock his toe on anything as he walked around the couch. Steve had his face turned towards the cushion, and Tony could see his back, see how he was shaking. His sobs were being muffled by the cushion, and he had no idea Tony was there, awake.

Tony took a sharp breath. He shouldn’t—Steve wouldn’t want him to say anything, for fuck’s sake. In a way, he was invading Steve’s privacy, by listening in to this, and he had no right to even try to—

Steve let out another sob, one that somehow escaped the muffling of the cushion, sounding raw and painful and just straight up _ broken _in the room.

Tony stepped forward, forgetting any common sense, and loudly knocked his foot against the side table.

Tony’s hand flew to his mouth to stop himself from cursing as the sharp pain climbed from his foot to his ankle. It was too late, though, and he saw how Steve’s back stilled immediately.

For a moment he stood there, in silence, and it was legitimately impressive how quiet Steve got in such little notice. As if he stopped breathing.

The momentary pain washed away, and Tony could only look ahead, eyes fixated on Steve’s solid form. He looked smaller, seen from there. In a different life, if they were different people, Tony could have easily fit beside him, on the couch – and he could, he noticed, fit well at Steve’s back, knees on the back of his thighs, arm thrown over his waist, face buried between his shoulder blades. He could, and for a moment, yearn swamped over him, so strong it was hard not to give in to the insane impulse.

Steve was still frozen in place. Tony sighed, fondness flooding his chest.

“Cap?” he asked, exaggerating his hesitance. “Are you awake?”

No response. The warmth in Tony’s chest curled and spread. _ Now you want me to believe you’re asleep, you idiot, _he thought, lips curling in a reluctant smile.

He came closer. It was a large couch – there was a small space right next to Steve where Tony managed to sit. He was very careful to not touch him, but of course, it didn’t matter – he could _ feel _the heat emanating from Steve’s body, and he knew Steve could feel it, from the way his posture went rigid.

“I—I shouldn’t have said that.” Tony’s voice sounded hoarse, every word scratching his throat as he spoke. “I don’t know why I did. Actually, scratch that, I do. I… thought that, at one point. I.” He swallowed. “I’d lie in bed at night thinking that.”

Steve took a sharp breath. Tony’s heart jumped in response, and he tensed, suddenly worried about his courage leaving when he needed it the most.

“I spent a lot of time thinking about… all that happened. About you,” Tony pressed on. He didn’t want Steve to speak, at least not yet. He had a feeling if Steve spoke, he’d never manage to say what he wanted to. “I was… I was really angry at you for a while. I imagine you were at me, too. ‘s only fair. The whole thing was a mess from start to finish, and I—I should’ve listened to you. About the Accords, and everything.” Tony took his hand to his neck, rubbing it. “And…”

Tony inhaled deeply. Silence lingered for a moment, and then he thought he heard a small noise, like someone opening their mouth to talk.

“I wish you had told me,” Tony interrupted. The words felt heavy, too much and yet too little. In the end, though, that was what it all came down to—the anger, the bitterness, the pain. “I really wish you had. I get it, though. I… hate it, but I get it. And—if I think too deeply I get angry again, maybe I always will, but—” He was rambling, but he needed to get it out. “It isn’t really about that. Sounds… sounds crazy, but it isn’t.”

Tony’s hands were shaking. He couldn’t do this. It was—it was crazy, and stupid, and yet, he was going to do it, wasn’t he? He shut his eyes, remembered the weak, muffled sob he had heard a few moments before. God help him, he was going to do it.

“Natasha knew. And it pissed me off, it did, but it was _ different, _ it just… was. I—I can’t explain.” He could, he really could, but he also _ couldn’t. _“Or—or maybe I can, but I shouldn’t, and I also can’t, I. I really think I can’t. It’s just, I don’t know. Anything that hurts, hurts more coming from you.” He inhaled, air filling his lungs like needles. “Like… a million, a bazillion times more. I can’t explain it.” He exhaled, his chest empty, his eyes burning. “Don’t ask me to explain it.”

Silence fell at his final words, suffocating like a cloud of smoke. Tony blinked rapidly, panting, as he stood up in an abrupt motion. He hurried towards the door, shaking, aware that he had said too little and too much at the same time.

“Tony—” he heard Steve saying behind him, his voice a faint whisper, but impossible to ignore all the same.

“I. I’m going for a walk,” he said, slamming the door loudly behind him.

* * *

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t really fair, what he did.

Whatever, Tony thought. He supposed he did have some leeway on being unfair to Steve, even if he ended up spending it all on stupid things like making divorce jokes or hacking the space station’s security system just to make sure he could successfully avoid Steve for the rest of the night, shamelessly moving from room to room in a ridiculous game of cat and mouse until Steve finally gave up trying to find him.

Of course, it took _ hours _for that to happen.

So when the morning arrived, Tony, who had managed to catch about three hours of sleep on the hall’s couch, was feeling very tired, grumpy, and not at all ready to face Steve. Which… really wasn’t that distant from his normal state, when he thought about it, so he guessed he could work with that.

He came to their room early, to meet Steve for breakfast. His play, he had decided, would be a very effective one, a true classic: he’d act like nothing had happened.

Tony knocked on the room’s door, not wanting to just type his code into the entrance panel and risk catching Steve in a compromising position.

“One sec,” came a voice inside, hoarse in a way that sent embarrassingly tingly shivers down Tony’s spine.

As he waited for Steve to open the door, he made plans. From his mental calculations, they had to take about twenty steps to the elevator and then another twenty to get to the restaurant where breakfast was being served (food was available at all times, as different species had different routines, but it was expected that, as Earth’s representatives, they adhered to a regular human schedule). Counting with the elevator, that was, what – four minutes of awkward silence? Tony could live with that. He really could.

(And, hey, if they walked faster, they could lower it to three.)

Then Steve opened the door and Tony was certain he could not live with that. He just couldn’t. He’d die in those four minutes, because Steve, like the giant asshole he was, had decided to take a morning shower, and he looked refreshed and beautiful, cheeks flushed and hair brushed back. Fuck, even his beard looked like it had been conditioned, which Tony was pretty sure was impossible, since they hadn’t brought any products.

“Hi,” he said dumbly, and then, like an idiot, he turned his back to Steve and started walking in the direction of the elevator.

“_Tony_,” Steve called, and this time Tony clearly didn’t have the advantage of catching a super soldier in an emotionally distraught state, because Steve caught up to him in no time, hand holding Tony’s arm. “We need to talk.”

“Actually, we don’t,” Tony replied cheerfully. Steve’s hand was big and heavy on his arm, and the last thing Tony needed was to think of how warm it also was, and how he was going to miss holding it when this was all over. “Things tend to go exponentially better when we don’t.”

“That isn’t true.” Steve stared at him with those two goddamn sapphires he had for eyes, and Tony swallowed. “Listen, Tony… About yesterday…”

“I’ve said my piece,” Tony interrupted, because, at the end of the day, it was true. He had. “I created the issue, I apologized, and I meant it. Not much more to do there, I’m afraid.” Steve’s gaze was impossible to read, so Tony turned away from his face, towards the elevator. “And now, I think we have bigger issues to focus on, if you don’t mind. You know, things like the victim of Midas who wants to get into your pants?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Steve said, and that shut Tony up, his mouth closing with a click. Steve blinked, seeming a little shocked at the effect. Though, being Steve, of course, he soldiered on. “I know that’s what I did, in many ways. But I never wanted to. And I didn’t think it would matter, because it doesn’t change what happened, but after you—After…” He swallowed. “I just wanted you to know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

There was an unbearably long silence, before Tony’s voice betrayed him. “I know,” he said, faint but certain. “I… I do know that.”

Steve nodded, but seemed unsure. He pulled Tony towards him, putting himself between him and the elevator. His eyes were bright, too bright to stare at, for Tony’s sanity. He focused on watching the elevator display behind Steve instead, where an upwards arrow shined.

“Yesterday,” Steve started, the word seeming to take great effort. Tony could empathize – even the suggestion of discussing what he had done made his heart jump to his throat. “I should’ve said something. I—I heard you.”

Tony scoffed. “I know you did,” he said, and he probably seemed incredibly dismissive, saying that and looking at the elevator and not at Steve, but that was probably for the best. Safer.

Steve, clearly, didn’t think that, because his hand tightened a little on Tony’s arm, seemingly in a reflex. “_Tony_,” and he sounded pleading, and Tony’s heart ached, and—

And the elevator’s panel lit up.

“When you were talking—” Steve continued, oblivious to the elevator doors opening behind him, completely within listening distance. “I wanted to say something, but I just…” Tony didn’t recognize the two people who stepped outside, but they were both very golden, and, from their wide eyes, _ very _ interested in his conversation with Steve – which, to be fair, probably exuded a strong “couple fight” energy. “I never thought you’d forgive me. I thought—I _ wanted _ —I mean, we never really… Even before, it seemed that there was always this, this _ distance _between us, and I never had the courage to—”

It would be quite the funny story, Tony imagined. That one time Steve accidentally spilled the beans and ruined a mission because he was too distracted staring at Tony and saying a bunch of nonsense for no reason. Hilarious.

Tony kind of wished that would have happened. And yes, of course, it would have killed them both, but—maybe, in the long run, that would still have been better than what did, in fact, happen.

Which was: Steve never actually got to spill the beans, because Tony, without doing anything that even remotely _ resembled _thinking, cupped his face with both of his hands, leaned forward and kissed him.

Just like that.

The movement was so fast Tony almost tripped as Steve seemed to lose his balance for a moment, stumbling a little backwards. Their noses bumped awkwardly, and Tony quickly adjusted his head. The contact with Steve’s mouth was almost shocking, warm in a way that felt disruptive, confusing.

Steve’s lips were so soft. _ I knew it, _Tony thought, a little distantly.

His intent was to keep the kiss chaste, making it a slightly longer than usual peck, but then he felt Steve’s arms flying to his waist, pulling him closer. Tony’s chest met the firm barrier of Steve’s, and he shivered in response, and then Steve parted his lips, and, well—Tony’s mind went completely blank, effectively shutting down at the heat of Steve’s tongue. Tony’s hands tightened on Steve’s cheeks, angling his head to give himself better access, and he could feel _ Steve _ shivering now, and, yeah, he wouldn’t mind feeling that again.

_ And again _ , Tony thought as the kiss grew harder, turning from kiss to _ kisses _ as their mouths parted with what surely were some gross smacking noises, and Tony found himself neglecting small details such as the danger they were in or the air they needed to breathe, in order to chase Steve’s mouth again, again, and again.

It was in one of those tiny, half-second long breaks that Tony heard someone clearing their throat. He was ready to ignore it completely, his eyes fixated on Steve’s glistening, already puffy lips, if Steve himself hadn’t grabbed Tony’s wrists, lowering his hands and putting some distance between them.

“—Stark,” Tony heard, his head spinning as it did when he woke up too suddenly after a vivid dream. “Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark!” The voice called again, growing more frustrated.

Tony blinked rapidly, still trying to get used to the new reality of not-kissing-Steve, and looked to see the two Sovereign citizens staring at them, standing in front of the elevator with scandalized expressions.

_ Oh, yeah _, he remembered distantly, his lips still sensitive from all the kissing. They were… there.

Right, that was the reason he had kissed Steve. The only reason. Definitely.

“Hello,” he said, sounding breathless but nonchalant enough. “What a great morning, huh?”

One of the Sovereign opened their mouth to give what Tony imagined would be a furious reply, but the other one jumped it first. “We didn’t mean to… interrupt,” he said, very solemnly, as if they had walked in the middle of a serious business meeting.

The other one seemed insulted by his diplomacy. “This is a public space! It isn’t proper for anyone to be—”

“Sorry,” Steve said, suddenly, and for a moment it seemed that he was talking to Tony. He blinked, his cheeks a deep red as he seemed to remember who he was supposed to be saying that word to, turning towards the aliens.

“Right,” Tony interrupted. He was, slowly and with very long breaths, regaining some presence of mind. “We’re very, very sorry. We… got a little carried away.” He winked, laying a hand on Steve’s waist.

Steve’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t been sticking his tongue _ deep _ in Tony’s throat five seconds ago. “Uh.” He swallowed. “Yeah, we… did. It—it won’t happen again.”

The offended one scoffed. “I should hope not,” he said, turning to Tony. “We’ll see you at the meeting.”

“Of course,” Tony replied, a little unsettled. “Okay, great talk, always nice to catch up, but, uh, honey?” He gave a little squeeze on Steve’s arm, nodding towards the elevator with what he hoped wasn’t too transparently desperate. “We should go—don’t want to be late for breakfast!”

Steve nodded frantically, and in a second they were both in the elevator. As the doors closed, Tony let out a breath, momentarily relieved until he realized they were alone and therefore there was no reason for him to keep holding Steve’s arm.

He let it go, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He kept his eyes staring ahead as the floors lowered, sensing Steve’s silent gaze on him, lips still tingling from the touch of his mouth. He could feel Steve’s body heat, too, could remember those strong arms around his waist.

Shit, the elevator was too small.

“I,” he said, at the exact same time Steve said “Tony”. The awkwardness doubled.

“Sorry,” Tony said, though he wasn’t sure whether he was apologizing for speaking or for the kiss or for last night or for _ everything_, really. He just felt that he should say sorry. “Go ahead.”

Steve took a sharp breath. His hair was still mussed from where Tony’s hand had grabbed, and, jeez, his face was covered with beard burn. Tony’s chest tightened. Steve wore debauchery very well. “That—that was fast thinking. Really clever.” He inhaled again, as if the first time hadn’t worked all that well. “Good job.”

“Right,” Tony said. _ Don’t stare at his mouth. Don’t stare at his mouth. _

“We. We should discuss a strategy.” Steve’s mouth moved as he spoke, lips puffy and offensively red. “For dinner.”

“Definitely.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, and Tony almost breathed a sigh of relief, until he realized that meant he'd have to take Steve's hand again.

* * *

The day went by as it usually did - which meant, of course, that it was pure torture.

At least they were spared having to _ actually _ discuss strategies. The morning and afternoon were incredibly busy, full of different meetings and presentations, so Tony and Steve didn’t have to do more than stand next to each other, smile a lot, and hold hands on occasion.

Meeting the alien species _ was _actually interesting. There was a lot of history and culture they couldn’t even imagine. Steve, Tony noticed, was often captured by the information presented to him, leaning forward with a small frown that was ever-so-slightly different from his frown of disappointment. He’d nod along with some of the presentations and even tilt his head a little when he heard something particularly intriguing, in a rather cute way.

Okay, fine, so maybe it wasn’t the history and the culture Tony found interesting. Whatever.

He did his best to keep his mind off the kiss, but it was a futile effort. On the rare moments where he managed to forget the soft, sweet feel of Steve’s lips, his mind was drawn back to the bedroom, to Steve’s muffled sobs. Those small, pained noises.

He had never seen Steve cry before. It felt – outrageous, wrong. It made Tony want to do absurd things.

So he had run his mouth. Of course he had. He shouldn’t have said anything, should’ve just apologized and went back to bed, but Steve was _ crying _and suddenly Tony hadn’t cared exactly what was he saying, as long as he could make him stop somehow.

_ Anything that hurts, hurts more coming from you_.

He was so tremendously stupid.

Steve had to be able to tell, by now. Christ—even if hadn’t _ then_, he certainly would’ve been able to later, with Tony’s tongue in his throat.

As they rose after the final meeting ended, Steve’s eyes snapped towards Tony, catching him in the middle of what Tony knew was some very blatant staring. Tony felt his cheeks burning and looked away, eyes landing on Ayesha, who had risen from her chair and walked in their direction, much slower than she had to.

“Maybe we should skip straight to dinner,” he said, fully aware of the way Steve raised his eyebrows in clear disapprobation. “I feel very hungry; don’t you, your majesty?”

Ayesha peered at him, clearly trying to see through whatever he was playing at. After a moment, though, she smiled.

“Absolutely.” She turned towards Steve. Aside from a small glint in her eye, you really couldn’t tell she hoping for a chance to get into his star-spangled pants. “What do you think, Captain? Should I tell my servants to set the table for us?” She said _ us _as if it was going to be just her and him.

Steve exuded discomfort, so Tony came closer, arm going around his waist. Steve’s back tensed. “Come on, honey. I’m _ starving _.”

“Right,” Steve said, with a strained smile. “I suppose we can jump ahead.”

“Wonderful.” Ayesha’s voice sounded amused. She turned to a nearby servant, hissing instructions.

Tony risked a look at Steve. He kept his face under control, but Tony could see, in his eyes, clearly spelled out: _ What the hell are you doing_?

_ I don’t know, _ Tony thought back, as if Steve could somehow hear him. _ I just didn’t want to be alone with you_.

Steve, who, for all his abilities, was still not a mind reader, just stared, and Tony’s eyes – involuntarily, stupidly – snapped to his lips. To his pretty mouth that always seemed so soft (and in fact managed to be even _ softer _than Tony ever imagined). The mouth that had let out weak, ghosts of sobs at the thought of Tony thinking he wanted to hurt him.

Tony swallowed. _ Goddamnit _.

Ayesha called them to follow her, and Tony turned, his hand trembling on Steve’s waist, his heart feeling tight in his chest with thoughts of Steve’s tears and Steve’s tongue. Maybe he was too obvious, and he couldn’t avoid that conversation forever, but at least he could try to evade it for a little longer. He’d take that.

As hosts, the Sovereign had many chambers, Tony noticed. He and Steve walked past endless golden corridors (_ subtle _was definitely a word their people didn’t know), following Ayesha, who, to be fair, did walk fast when there was already a red carpet in front of her. Small blessings.

Dinner was served on a large, ostentatious table that seemed meant for more people than just the three of them. Ayesha did have two servants sitting at each of her sides, but there were no plates in front of them. It wasn’t clear what exactly they were there for (a crew of hurried, obviously younger servants was in charge of setting the table, frantically laying cutlery in front of Tony and Steve), but, evidently, it wasn’t to eat.

For a few blissful minutes, the servants’ franticness spared them of the need to make small talk with Ayesha and her two friends. They worked fast, though, and before Tony knew it, the table was set and the group was bowing and retreating, the large metallic door closing automatically as soon as they stepped outside.

Tony could feel Steve tensing next to him, more than he already was.

“Well,” Ayesha said, with a gesture towards the food. There were two large trays in front of them, one carrying a very colorful salad of fruits and vegetables Tony didn’t recognize and one carrying something that resembled a very large casserole. “What are we waiting for?”

Tony gave her a strained smile, hoping to make up for Steve’s obvious discomfort. “It looks delicious,” he said, and, bizarrely, it wasn’t even a lie.

He looked at the two quiet servants for a second, unsure if he was meant to help himself, but since they didn’t move, he decided to go ahead.

“I was so pleased when you two agreed to meet me for dinner,” Ayesha said. Her voice was kind, but there was a spark in her eyes of something that seemed a little too dangerous for Tony’s taste. She turned towards Steve, smiling. “The two of you are such a lovely couple.”

Steve’s jaw was set, his throat so tense Tony thought he’d pull a muscle. Tony raised an eyebrow.

This wasn’t Steve flustered or nervous because his acting sucked. This was Steve’s tension in Cap mode – Steve’s tension when he felt there was danger in the air.

Tony’s eyes darted around, quickly making an inventory of the room. No doors other than the one that had closed when the servants left. And they walked through so many corridors to get here… It was unlikely there was anyone nearby to listen to whatever would happen to them.

“Thank you,” Tony replied, because faking nonchalance was a good way to not let his own growing anxiety show. He noticed he had frozen mid-motion of putting food on his plate, and he hurried to finish it.

Steve shot the food a worried glance, and Tony didn’t need to read minds to know he was thinking they shouldn’t eat it. His gaze found Tony’s, and they had a silent battle over it – surely Ayesha wasn’t going to _ poison _them at a private dinner everyone else saw her take them to, right? It would be monumentally stupid of her. There were other ways to get rid of them while raising less suspicion, if that was what she wanted to do. And why the hell would she want to do that, anyway? Just because Steve didn’t let her get into his pants?

It didn’t make any sense. Steve was being overly paranoid. Tony tried to use any previously unknown telepathy powers he had to tell him that, but Steve just kept staring when they were startled by the sound of Ayesha chewing.

“Ah,” she sighed after swallowing a piece of the salad. “Delicious.”

Okay, so that settled the food question, at least. Tony picked up some salad with his fork while his hand found Steve’s, giving him a calming squeeze.

(It would be hard, Tony thought, when the farce was over, and he had to get used to the fact that he _ didn’t _have the right to touch Steve casually like that.)

“Wonderful,” he said, after tasting the dish. It probably was, but the taste was neutered by how full of knots his stomach felt, in anticipation of _ whatever _was giving off those dangerous vibes from their little gathering.

“I’ll have my chef send the recipe to your database,” Ayesha replied. Then she raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Say, I’ve heard humans heavily associate cooking with your females,” she said _ humans _as if it was a dirty word, “How does this apply to a relationship like yours?”

“Uh,” Tony said. Of all things Ayesha could talk about, Tony certainly didn’t imagine she’d ask them a question about gender roles. “Well, it’s not really… I mean, that’s. Kind of an outdated concept.”

Ayesha gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I see. So it would be more Captain Rogers’ speed, if I understood correctly, yes?”

“Yeah.” Tony wasn’t sure why, but his instincts were not going great, and he didn’t like the idea of Ayesha bringing the focus to Steve. Tony could feel the clenching muscles of Steve’s hand under his, and he ran his thumb over his knuckles without thinking, trying to provide some security he couldn’t actually give. “He’s an old man.”

Ayesha tilted her head, seeming both amused and intrigued. “Right,” she said, her eyes impossible to read. “It was quite a miracle that brought the two of you together, as I was told.”

“Uh. Yeah, we—we were really lucky.” Tony risked a glance on Steve’s direction, but Steve wasn’t looking at him – he was staring at Ayesha like he was preparing to go to battle.

“A wonderful story.” Ayesha brought her hands together, fingers forming an arch as she looked from Tony to Steve, then back to Tony again. “Captain Rogers told me all about it. How he fought side by side with your father,” Tony, without thinking, looked at Steve, who didn’t look at him. “And then with you. How you fell in love, and then had… your _ differences _. How you had to put it all aside to save the universe. How you forgave each other, and embraced your love again.” A flush painted Steve’s cheeks, descending down to his neck, and for the first time Tony realized he wasn’t as much as looking at Ayesha as he was avoiding to look at Tony. “An unbelievably beautiful story.”

Tony took a sharp breath, studying Steve’s profile. _ What did you tell her? What I was supposed to_.

Tony swallowed. Clearly, Steve had elaborated a little on their lie – and thrown some truth in the mix as well. All things considered, it wouldn’t be a bad choice, if it managed to make Ayesha—

“_Very _unbelievable, some would say,” her voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and gaining steam at every word. Tony’s head snapped back at her, and he noticed her two assistants with their backs straight but eyes focused, as if they were ready to jump into action at any moment. “In fact, once I heard it, I couldn’t help but wonder how could two people with such a turbulent history end up together.”

Steve’s hand twitched under Tony’s, which made Tony remember he was still holding it. He felt incredibly conscious of it, even as he also stared forward, unable to bring himself to find Steve’s gaze.

“Seeing your behavior also made me wonder. For two people who overcame so much to be together, you don’t seem very at ease with each other, if you don’t mind me saying. Now, normally I wouldn’t dream of intruding in such a private topic, but.” She pressed her lips together in a golden, thin line. “You see, it’s… quite a strange situation. Some of my advisors seem to think you are, well—_ lying _ to us. _ Under our roof _!”

Her voice echoed in the room, the strident note impossible to ignore. This time, Tony’s hand twitched as he fought the impulse to tap the reactor. There was no immediate need for the armor at the moment, but Ayesha’s nostrils were wide with fury, and Tony remembered Rocket’s words too well to underestimate her: _ The cost of transgression is death_.

“And, to be honest, I don’t know why you would do something like that,” Ayesha tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with barely disguised angry. “Unless you really thought me and my people to be _ really, really _stupid.”

“Uh, if I may—High Priestess, Ayesha, honey, I, I think this is a big misunderstanding,” Tony interrupted, desperate to defuse the situation. “Me and my hus—”

“Oh, please,” she countered. “Maybe on Earth people are stupid enough to fall for your blatant façade, Mr. Stark, but you’ll find that higher beings aren’t so easy to trick.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by the sound of Steve pushing back his chair and jumping to his feet.

“Enough,” he said, his eyes strong and commanding, fixated on Ayesha.

She seemed to be taken aback for one moment, but recovered quickly: “Oh? Do you have anything to add to the conversation, Captain?”

Steve clenched his jaw, quiet anger emanating from him like waves. “No. This conversation is over,” he turned his glance momentarily to Ayesha’s bodyguards, as if challenging them to say otherwise. “We are leaving.”

“Excuse me?” Ayesha sounded indignant, but she composed herself, straightening her posture and giving Steve a condescending smile. “I don’t think it’s up to you to decide that, Captain.”

Tony laid a hand on Steve’s forearm, searching his face, looking for clues as to what angle they were playing at. Steve didn’t look at him, though.

“Yes, it is.” He took a step forward, and from his seat Tony could see a flush descending down his neck, close to a pulsing vein. “This is now the second time you’ve insulted my marriage. I’m not interested in sticking around for the third.”

Ayesha scoffed. “Your _ marriage _is a scam, Captain, and I’m not—”

“Like I said,” Steve’s voice sounded icy with fury. “Enough. You’re completely out of line here, High Priestess. I—I thought you’d respect my relationship if I shared with you our—our history.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Tony wondered if he wasn’t looking at him at any point to keep the farce authentic, not allowing reality to come through. “But clearly you are not interested in doing that.”

“Oh, please,” Ayesha said, with an eyeroll. “If even a glimpse of what you told me is true, Captain, it’s a wonder the two of you can even stand next to each other. And you want me to believe you’re married? Happily in love, after a fight that broke your entire team and made you spend—what, was it two or three years apart? I can’t recall.”

Something sharp and cold stung in the inside of Tony’s chest. For some reason, hearing the disdain in Ayesha’s voice hurt. Even though it made no sense, to him it was as if she knew everything that was going through his mind and heart in the last couple of days and saw how ridiculous and pathetic it all was. The hurried kisses, the gentle touches, the warm feel of Steve’s hand in his – none of it was real. None of it _could ever_ be real.

“Steve,” Tony heard himself saying. He had stood up at some point and his hand climbed from Steve’s forearm to his shoulder. He wasn’t sure of what he was going to say – he wanted Steve to focus on leaving, on planning an escape if it was necessary. He didn’t want Ayesha to keep reminding him of how deluded he was.

“You should probably listen to your ‘husband’, Captain,” Ayesha said. Tony’s stomach twisted. “Especially since this is a rare occasion where he’s actually looking at you, as opposed to glancing anywhere other than your direction.”

Humiliation burned Tony’s cheeks. He opened his mouth to reply, but Steve interrupted him: “It’s not any of your business when Tony wants to look at me.”

A stunned silence followed his words. There was something cold in Steve’s voice, but also burning. Tony blinked in shock as he inhaled deeply, apparently composing himself before continuing.

“Listen,” he stared, sounding a little calmer. “I… I understand where you’re coming from.”

Ayesha raised her eyebrows, and Tony gripped Steve’s shoulder harder, certainly spelling _ what the fuck _with his eyes, but Steve didn’t see. He didn’t look at him.

“I really do. Tony and I, we—we’ve been through a lot.” He swallowed, and his eyes flicked towards Tony for one second, wide and glassy, before turning to Ayesha again. “Most of it wasn’t pretty. And for someone on the outside, it may seem impossible to think this could end up with us, here, together. I know,” his voice trembled just a little, the slightest amount, in a way anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t be able to tell. “Because every time I thought about it, it seemed impossible to me, too. Many, many times.”

Tony took a breath, but no air reached his lungs. He shivered, unable to look away from Steve, momentarily forgetting to be a genius, to worry about the danger they were in. Surely Steve wasn’t…

“But Tony has a knack for—for making impossible things happen.” Steve’s voice wavered, and he looked down for a moment, a small smile curling his lips. “And the more time passed, and the more impossible it got, the more I… I fell for him.” He raised his head, staring straight at Ayesha. “I can’t even tell you when I started loving him. All I know is that one day I couldn’t keep denying that I did, and I do, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop someday, even if he doesn’t love me back.” He paused, breathing heavily, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Anymore,” he added quickly.

The silence that followed was deafening. It would be possible to hear a pin drop, except for the fact that Tony wouldn’t have heard if a meteor came crashing down the ceiling, because he was too busy staring at Steve with his mouth half-open, his eyes strangely hot, blood roaring loudly in his ears.

He knew how Steve looked when he was lying. He had spent the past days watching it closely.

That wasn’t it.

“So what I want to say is that even if our story is not the, uh, most traditional, me and Tony—uh, my husband,” Steve continued, blinking rapidly, seemingly remembering the situation they were in. “We’re happy. And I—”

“I love him,” Tony interrupted, his own voice frantic, but although he was ostensibly talking to Ayesha, he wasn’t looking at her. In fact, she could just as well not exist, as far as he was concerned. He tightened his grip on Steve’s shoulder, trying to get Steve to look at him. “I do. It might seem impossible, but I, I do, I—”

“Madam?” A weak voice called. Tony jumped, startled – Ayesha’s guards. To be honest, he had completely forgotten they were there. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Well,” Ayesha’s voice sounded hesitant, but calmer than before. She raised her tone, clearly addressing Steve and Tony, but Tony didn’t bother looking, focused on trying to get Steve to turn towards him. “It seems to me the two of you are clearly delusional, but you do seem sincere enough. So I thank you, in the name of my people, for sharing your honest stupidity with us.”

Tony glanced at her for a moment, and saw as she and her servants did a small courtesy bow. Then Ayesha smiled, apparently satisfied, and turned towards the door, walking away. The servants hurried after, seeming a little unsure of what they were doing.

Steve took advantage of the momentary distraction to escape from Tony’s grip, but fuck if Tony was gonna let him off that easy.

“Hey,” he called, going after him. Steve was clearly still reeling from his speech, because Tony was able to catch his wrist, stop him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, sounding strained, and still very much _ not _looking at Tony. “We don’t need to talk about it, let’s just—”

“_Not talk about it_? Are you crazy? You just say something like that and—”

“I’m sorry,” Steve cut him off, sounding pained. “I had to, we don’t know what she could have done.”

“What? Sorry for what?” Tony’s grip tightened around Steve’s wrist, and they had a mini tug war, as Steve tried to get loose without putting his super strength to play. “What the hell are you talking about? Am I supposed to just—”

“Let it go,” Steve finally, _ finally_, turned to look at him, and his face was pained and frustrated. His features were reddened by a heavy flush, the type you get after some heavy exercise, and he was beautiful, because he was Steve. “Just—just let it go, Tony, okay? It’s pointless. Just forget it.”

Tony almost laughed. “_Forget it_?” Steve’s words were echoing in his mind in a loop, and Tony had a distinct feeling he would never get tired of them. “Steve, I can’t forget it. That’s not, like, a thing that can happen. It’s just not.”

Steve took a breath. He actually did it, as if Tony’s words were hurting him deeply, and, oh, God. “Okay. You don’t need to forget it if you can’t, but, Tony, just for the next few days, pretend it’s not a problem, okay? Later, I—I will stay out of your way, I promise. But just now, while we still need to keep the lie going, let’s just—”

Steve’s next words were swallowed by Tony’s lips. Which, yeah, it was far from the smoothest kiss of Tony’s life – their noses bumped awkwardly at Tony’s quick advance, and Steve stumbled backwards a little, and Tony kind of had to throw his arms around his neck to stop both of them from falling.

And to bring Steve closer, too. Okay, maybe mostly for that.

“Stop,” Tony whispered, and he knew his breath must have tingled Steve’s (soft, so, so soft) lips, from the way he felt Steve’s body shivering. “Just. Stop saying words.” their noses brushed again as he spoke, and Tony found he didn’t mind, not even a little. Steve had a great nose. “Don’t say anything ever again.”

“Okay,” Steve said quickly, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes blinked rapidly. His face had softened, even if he had blushed further, and he was breathing unevenly from their completely chase kiss. He inhaled slowly, his lips partially open as if he was saving the spot for Tony’s mouth. “That’s. That’s certainly a habit you’ve got, to shut me up.”

“Not a habit,” Tony replied. He was feeling similarly breathless, as if the blue of Steve’s eyes was stealing the air right out of his lungs. “But it could turn into one. If, you know. If it sounds like. A good idea.”

“It does,” Steve agreed immediately. He angled his head a little, leaning further until their foreheads were touching. “I have this problem where I talk a lot.”

“Right,” Tony said, his knees going weak. So, so much blue. “And I’m famous for being a man of few words. You know, all stoic, serious hero. No time for quips.” He brought one hand to Steve’s forehead, swiping back a lock of fine hair. “Except for my romantic speeches. I—I heard those are pretty great.”

Steve smiles, blinding. “Yeah? That’s—that’s nice.”

“Yeah.” Tony felt his eyes burning a little, just a little, because that was what happened when you stared too closely at the sun. “So, I heard habits are just—just a matter of practice. Uh. Very, very constant practice.” Steve’s grin widened, and yeah, that was as far as he could take without going back to the kissing. “So maybe we should just, just—”

“Stop talking?”

“Yeah.”

They did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, I really appreciate kudos and comments. And if you want, you can reblog it on tumblr [here](https://elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com/post/187153503945/playing-the-part-remix-nanasekei-marvel).


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